


Career Soldiers

by Lucky107



Series: Sinners, Saints, and Survivors [3]
Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blind Patriotism, Crossdressing, Fix-It, Gen, Homoerotic Tendencies, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-11 22:14:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7909594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucky107/pseuds/Lucky107
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is a toast to victory - to the future of Mexico - and even Rodrigo finds himself with a glass in his hand half-way through his shift.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A Leader on Losing Control - Corb Lund - 2007

At high noon, the Mexican Army achieves a great victory.

The battle at Tesoro Azul is bloody and violent, but through the settling smoke the soldiers surface as victors.  To quench further fighting spirit, the rebel men are rounded up for execution while the women are taken back to town for a chance at a brighter future in the servitude of their great leader, Colonel Agustin Allende.

What remains of the structures, empty now and standing like ghosts in the shadow of a short-lived past, is set to burn in a purge of the dark stains that have set into the crumbling stone.

The sun is beginning to set by the last leg of the return trip.

Now, it's time to celebrate.

 

Rodrigo, a young mercenary who was present at the battle earlier in the day, is the first to arrive back to Escalera and he switches his poncho for an apron with trembling hands.  Not more than an hour ago he was under the duress of heavy gunfire and now he must revert to the steady hand of a drink-slinging bar boy.

"Take the night," the bartender, a homely man named Pedro, encourages.  "After today you've more than earned it.  Go and have some fun, kid."

"No way, old man," Rodrigo insists, that charming little smile touching the corners of his thin lips.  "It is going to be a busy one tonight.  You will not be able to keep up alone."

Pedro just rolls his eyes and fills up another tray of drinks.

The air is thick with smoke and even as the night settles across Punta Orgullo, the heat sticks to the skin of those who occupy the dirty cantina.  The noise is a static buzz - cheering, singing, laughing, and a toast.  It is a toast to victory - to the future of Mexico - and even Rodrigo finds himself with a glass in his hand half-way through his shift.

He moves with unspoken— _feminine_ —grace across the floor with that tray, dancing through the sea of soldiers and narrowly skirting around the bodies and chairs that crowd the cantina.

It is a trait that doesn't go unnoticed by one soldier in particular, a man who sits alone at the very far end of the cantina.  He drinks a drink or two, but he's otherwise atmospherically sober in relation to his band of victorious soldiers.

Mostly, he just watches.

Rodrigo is charming at work - an all-around gentleman if ever there was one - and the Captain watches the boy flirt with the kitchen wench.  She's young, but average-looking and not the type of woman that Colonel Allende wants at the Villa.  She plucks glasses from Rodrigo's tray and thrusts them into the tub of brown, filthy water before scrubbing them down.

Her mind is absent, though, and she flashes the young mercenary a shy little smile.  Rodrigo, using his— _delicate, slender_ —fingers, brushes the woman's hair back over her shoulders to keep it out of the water.

They exchange words, but they cannot be heard from across the bustling cantina.

"Take a break," Pedro insists with a small nod of his head.

"What?"  Rodrigo asks, surprise written all over his young face.  "Pedro, I—"

"Both of you," the bartender assures, offering the young kitchen girl a small nod of approval.  "Take ten minutes to go outside and cool your heads.  You have been working hard this evening and I need you in top shape if we are going to survive the night."

"Thank you, sir."

Rodrigo takes the young girl's hand and the two of them make their way through the crowded cantina.

 

The cool air outside hits Rodrigo like a wall and within moments the young bar boy feels rejuvenated.

Given the big smile on his female companions face, he can only assume that the kitchen girl is feeling the same way as she allows the cool air to wash over her mostly bare skin.  The air is so much clearer and the stars seem so much brighter once they escape from the light of the cantina's livelihood.

It's a beautiful night and Rodrigo places an arm around the young girl's shoulders; he has not known her long, but he has seen her busying about at the brothel upstairs.  She is no older than thirteen or so.  "What is your name?"

"Antonia, sir."

"No 'sir'," the mercenary insists.  "My name is Rodrigo."

It's immediately apparent to Rodrigo by the admiration in Antonia's eyes that she has never been treated with any sort of kindness or compassion by a man.  And if she intends to make Escalera her permanent residence, it's likely she never will be.  "T-thank you, Rodrigo."

Barely two minutes into their break finds the door swinging open at their back, startling them both from their quiet conversation.  Standing in the doorway, an intimidating presence for his size, is a man in uniform from within the cantina.

"Ah, Capitán de Santa."

"S-sir."

Antonia ducks her head and hurries back inside, leaving her place by Rodrigo's side decidedly cold.  Rodrigo holds his ground and offers the Captain a pleasant— _almost sweet_ —smile.  "Congratulations on today's victory," he says.  "Your leadership is unmatched, sir."

"You played no small part yourself, mercenary."

When the older man leans up against the railing where Antonia was once leaning and doesn't say another word, the silence becomes deafening.  In no time at all the atmosphere becomes asphyxiating.

It takes a long time for anyone to say much of anything and Rodrigo is counting down the minutes until the end of his break when the Captain finally says, "Is she a nice girl?"

Momentarily surprised, the mercenary asks, "Antonia?"

Captain de Santa offers a nod of his head and the boy dips his head— _shyly, like Antonia_ —before answering.  "Yes, but she is naive, as well.  I pity her, really."

"Pity?" He offers a curt laugh.  "It does not look like pity to me."

"I fear she will never know the real love of a gentle man," Rodrigo insists.  "She—"

But now Rodrigo's superior officer just seems amused by the plight.  "You are playing with a young girl's heart, Rodrigo?  I never would have thought."

With a warm rose flush spreading across his face, Rodrigo amends, "It is more complicated than that, sir."

 

When Rodrigo returns to work, running late as a result of his conversation with the Captain, Pedro is understandably annoyed.  "Go on now," he insists, pushing a tray of fresh drinks into the boy's hands.  "There are many thirsty men waiting for you."

And just like that, the night flies by.

The sun is spilling its first rays of light over the white sands of Punta Orgullo by the time the last of the men have gone.  It will be impossible to scrub out the smell of smoke, booze and vomit, but it doesn't stop Pedro and Rodrigo from trying.  Pedro is out on the patio to splash away stains and spilled liquor while Rodrigo collects stray the glasses and cleans up the broken ones.

Antonia returned upstairs shortly after midnight, where she would get minimal rest before returning to work as an attendant for the madam.  It was all Rodrigo could do to see her off with a smile.

Rodrigo is on his hands and knees trying to reach a glass from underneath a table when the door opens and, too lost in his own thoughts of the prior day's events, fails to recognize that anyone has come in.  That is, until his visitor speaks.  "Rodrigo?"

Jumping to his feet with his heart in his throat, the boy greets, "Capitán de Santa.  It is early, the cantina is not yet open to the public."

"I have not come to drink, but to talk."  Captain de Santa insists.  "Do you have a moment?"

"No," Rodrigo says plainly.  "I am very busy."

The Captain stifles a laugh.  "You are diligent.  Has anyone ever told you that, boy?"

"No," Rodrigo says again, but this time he does not linger and wipes down another table while he speaks.  Despite Rodrigo's persistently tight-lipped approach, the Captain does not seem eager to reschedule.

"Do you say anything other than 'no'?"

"No," the boy says once more, but this time relents.  "Yes.  Fine.  What is it that you want from me, Capitán?"

"I have a proposition for someone of your skill and... demeanor.  We are looking for new recruits to come and work up at the Villa.  You will be paid better, treated better—" The man reaches out to touch a length of the boy's messily cut hair. "—handled better."

Rodrigo swats the man's hand away and collects his half-empty tray of glasses before returning to the bar, eager to put some distance between himself and the Captain.  "I see the rumors are true," he counters sharply.  "I am afraid I do not share your interests, sir."

But Rodrigo cannot work directly for Colonel Allende.

Captain de Santa knows this.

"Perhaps there is a more specific reason that you decline my offer?"  He asks and before Rodrigo can respond, the Captain pins the boy between himself and the bar.  The tray of glasses crash to the floor behind him and shatters loudly.  "Who are you, Rodrigo?"

The boy stares up at his commanding officer with fear in those wide— _but beautiful_ —brown eyes.

It's that knowing little smile the Captain wears on his face that forces Rodrigo between a rock and a hard place that forces his hand.  "I am just a boy from the capital who wishes to fight for my country, sir—"

"Who are you really?"

"I told you—!"

"A lie," the Captain insists.

And it is a lie.  It's the same damn lie that Rodrigo tells to everyone he comes across with the intention of believing it himself someday.  He is a boy from the capital with a patriotic heart - to fight for his country is the only thing Rodrigo has ever wanted, but if he remained in the capital that would have been impossible.  This is why he _must_ lie.

In a whisper Rodrigo confesses: "My name is Rosa María."


	2. Chapter 2

Rosa María has spent the two and a half days on the rails coming down from the border where she has been trying to liaison with some of her uncle's most powerful - and thus, most dangerous - associates in the territory of Nuevo Paraíso.  It's grim and often fruitless work, trying to ensure that the resources allocated to Nuevo Paraíso are being distributed evenly and not arbitrarily, but at times it can be rewarding.

She would have had to be a fool not to suspect something was in the works for her in her absence, what with the rising threat of a revolt all across the country and all, but this...

"On behalf of your mother's deepest concern for your safety, I have made arrangements for you to be sent to America for the duration of the upcoming conflict," says one of the most powerful men in the country.  "I have overseen the preparations to ensure that you have a safe, comfortable place to stay while you study your English until further notice."

The words fly right over María's head.

Just as she would have to be a fool not to suspect something like this was coming, her uncle - the President, Ignacio Sanchez - would have to be a fool not to see the gears turning in her young, but bright mind.

If what he says is true, that their beloved Mexico is in danger, then there's no way he can expect Rosa María to turn her back on the upcoming conflict.  After all, he hand-selected her for her position as chargé d'affaires on account of her patriotism and diplomacy.

María would never abandon her post.

 

It is later that same day when Rosa María finds herself face-to-face with the only person with courage enough to stand up to her uncle: her father, Miguel.

Miguel and Ignacio never saw eye-to-eye, which threw a particularly dangerous wrench into Miguel's plans to marry Ignacio's then-pregnant sister.  Miguel, a dishonorable man and a high-ranking soldier, was Rosa María's undisputed father and so he became Ignacio's brother-in-law.

That said, Miguel has never actually been a father to Rosa María, showing little interest in raising a daughter.

"Father," María begins.  "I have asked of you nothing over the years, but must request you speak with my uncle in regards to his decision.  This is my country and I will fight for her if it comes to that, which is surely something you can understand."

The man lights his cigarette with little concern for the words his daughter speaks at him.  "I won't be in trouble for your senseless meddling, girl."

Pursing her lips, Rosa María stands roughly from the table where they are seated.

It doesn't make any sense to feel so strongly against her father because he's never been a proper father to her before, so this is the exact response she should have expected.  And she did.  Yet suddenly she despises her father's reluctance and many strong words cross her mind as a potential response.

But when Miguel's eyes meet her own, though, all those words vanish like smoke.  He dares her to speak, to say something disrespectful, and it never comes.

All she can muster is a curt, "Forgive me, sir."

 

The dwellings are remarkably insignificant for a girl so close to the President of Mexico, but Rosa María spends most of her time on the rails between Mexico City and Nuevo Paraíso.  If anything, the bare guest room serves only as a place to sleep when she's home in the city, but tonight she does not sleep.

Sitting in front of a small vanity desk, illuminated by a single flickering candle, the young woman looks at her reflection with a heavy sense of self-loathing.

Her dark eyes, often so bright and curious, are defiant and bitter in the mirror.  A small, patriotic flame burns deep within her heart—it is the flame that gives her the courage to change her life, for better or for worse, and a small smile traces her thin lips.

María was not born the niece of the President, but the daughter of Mexico herself.

Taking up a rough, well-used skinning knife - the only gift she's ever received from her father, even if she had to steal it at the night's less-than-successful confrontation - and a fistful of long, dark hair, María is determined to erase the reflection staring back at her in the mirror.

She does not hesitate when hacking away her identity to create someone new because she knows she must do what she can to fight in this war... even if that means erasing herself completely.

 

Staring back through the mirror with a lap full of long, dark hair and nicked hands is the face of a stranger.  Tomorrow's first light will be the dawn of a new man's life.

Rosa María is gone.

\- x -

Standing along the wall of El Presidio overlooking the San Luis, Rodrigo's short nails bite into the crumbling sandstone as he admires the reflection of a sun that sets on his back.

It was a foolish plan - a plan concocted in a dangerously drunken moment of pure stupid genius - but in the end it saw a military victory for Colonel Allende.  The men are too impressed with Rodrigo's performance to question the convincing act in skirts he played for their Captain's amusement, but there was no guarantee of that.

"You did well today," Captain de Santa acknowledges.  "I am impressed."

"You made a fool of me in front of these men, Capitán de Santa," the boy retorts.  "It is funny to you because you do not have to prove yourself to them the way I do.  It could have ruined everything I have built here.  Do you understand that?"

"I would not have asked if I did not think you could handle it," the Captain insists.  "I did not lie when I said you were diligent—" He places a hand on the boy's hip. "—in all of your work."

But Rodrigo does not laugh at the once-familiar jest.  "Get your hands off of me!  I will not be your fool in the same way that you are the Coronel's."

"You do not believe that traitor's lies, do you?"

"No," Rodrigo says.  "But I do listen to what I see with my own two eyes.  Remind me again, sir, what it is that you bleed for in this war?"

Captain de Santa leans on the wall where Rodrigo once stood, though the boy now stands defensively to one side.  The tension is unsettling, but this time not for the young mercenary.  "I bleed for my country, girl.  The same as you."

"Then you know to be careful of who you trust, sir," Rodrigo says.  "You may wake up with a knife in your back."

\- x -

The sun is rising on the horizon, rays of golden light seeping through the trees with a soft, tender warmth.

Despite the braying plea of the horses who carry the wagon at her will, Rosa María rides hard through the night with no intention of breaking.  There's no time to rest, even if she is stiff and sore from a long night at the reins, because being caught is not an option.

The dirt trail she follows is the remnants of a fast-fading memory - she saw the stranger's map for only a moment before making her final decision.

When the man beside her stirs, a shaking hand finding purchase upon her knee to avoid tumbling right off the wagon in his woozy state, María awakens with a start from her daze at the reins.  "You slept surprisingly well, sir."

"That was no peaceful sleep, girl..."  He retorts.  "Where are we?"

The golden landscape with lavish trees and tall prairie grass is very distinct from the red, barren lands of home, but María does not say a word.  She doesn't have to.  Even as Captain de Santa tries to make sense of their circumstances, it remains painfully obvious that they are in America.

It's no secret that they have been run out of Mexico following the victory of Abraham Reyes.  Returning now would mean certain death for both of them, if not worse.

"I convinced the gringo that you are more important alive than dead as soon as I had heard that Coronel Allende sent you to die," María explains, albeit sourly.  "I told him that you are a liar and that if you lie to him, I will ensure that you stay where he wants us.  It is a small town called Armadillo."

The Captain sounds skeptical, almost angry, when he asks, "And we are almost there now?"

"No," María corrects.  "We passed Armadillo already.  We are approaching a 'Thieves' Landing', where we will stop to rest.  Pedro told me that the Americans run large boats from a place east called Blackwater.  We will go there and disappear, at least until you are well enough to fight again."

"Girl," the older man says, loudly and shrill like a hyena, before forcibly turning María's face towards his own.  If he tries to smile she's can't see it through the blood and the bruises.  "... You are brilliant."

"We are cowards, Capitán de Santa."

 

_Papá,_

_We have not spoken in some time and I worry for your well-being when I hear news of uprisings in the province.  I pray for your well-being while everyday missing having you by my side._

_Eloping is not all I thought it would be, but we are doing well enough here for strangers of the land._

_This letter will never be enough to repay all you have done over the years, but please accept my words as a start.  I wish to someday thank you properly in person for without your guidance, I would never have made it this far.  I have many stories to tell you on the day we meet again._

_Please, wait for me._

_Love,_

_María_

Pedro stands alone in the now-empty graveyard where the blood of slain men still stains the white-washed stone.

In one hand he holds an old piece of paper and in the other a lit cigarette.  He hovers like a statue over an empty grave, admiring the fresh stone that bears the name of a man, no more than a boy, who will never ride for his country again and smiles a simple man's smile.

As the sun fades over Sepulcro, the ashes of Rodrigo's last letter scatter to the wind.


End file.
